Milady in Waiting
by Nneave
Summary: Milady sees Athos being tortured and needs to help; but she has to wait. Set towards the end of Series 2, but no real spoilers. This has a different feel to my other writing, it just came out of my head differently. So let me know if you like it, especially if you've read my other pieces - Thank you for reading, Nneave xx.
1. Chapter 1

**Apologies I had real issues uploading this story, I ended up deleting and re-uploading.**

 **Hope it was worth it guys, because it seems technology hates me!**

 **Thank you for reading - please let me know what you think xx**

She stood in the shop whilst the assistant went to get his master; she hated waiting, however Dufour was not a man you hurried. He was an expert at his craft, and her association with the former Cardinal had led to her using his services many time in the past. These days she used the apothecary somewhat less, but still liked to keep her supplies well stocked. The shop was of course a front. As well as the traditional supplies Dufour also supplied less...healthy, medicines and treatments. Dufour had been one of the Cardinal's chief interrogators; she had seen some of the effects of his concoctions and had been impressed. A man might feel confident to withstand the work of a blade master but there was something that much more… hypnotic about watching him go mad from agony or hallucinations with a drop of one mixture, or betray those he loved because of a few sips of another.

Resisting the urge to tap her foot she decided to study some of the many bottles lining the walls, until the small door opened and the assistant returned. _"My master is working at the moment Milady, but says you are welcome to join him below, or he will be free tomorrow morning"._

She frowned for a moment considering. She really only wanted a couple of things, none of which were urgent so could wait; however that would mean travelling from the other side of Paris again tomorrow. Decision made she indicated for the small, rodent like man to lead the way. Although she had walked the corridor and down the narrow staircase several times in the past, she knew Dufour would expect the awful, twitchy, little man first and that no one else would make it into the room alive.

Whenever she entered Dufour's workroom, she was taken aback by the smell - a mixture of blood, fear and death that must have filled his subjects with terror; she however, quite liked it - although she did find it rather dark. She suspected the wretched creature hanging limply, from chains in the ceiling would feel less at home, but she did not let that bother her, and barely glanced at him as she apologised to Defour for disturbing his work.

" _Not at all, as you can see my other appointment has temporarily passed out,"_ he told her cheerily as he wiped the blood off his instruments with a rag. _"I was trying something new. Clearly I've not yet perfected it. What can I do for you today Milady?"_

" _I have a list Master Dufour, fairly standard items",_ she told him as she handed him the list. He took it from her and read it through.

"Hmm, y _es, I should have everything. It may take a while for me to put it together, would you like to wait?"_ he asked her as though standing in a torture chamber was the most normal thing in the world. She supposed for people like them it was. She smiled at her agreement at him, and he offered her a chair beside his work table and some water. " _I apologise Milady at the lack of refreshments, however in my profession I have found water the most difficult in which to hide unpleasant surprises_."

" _Not to worry Master Dufour, I am happy just to rest my feet for awhile."_ He bowed softly to her, and headed through another door at the far end of the room, which led to his true workroom. Once again she found herself waiting, so she studied some of the instruments on Dufour's worktable. A few minutes more passed and she started to glance around the room at some of the equipment, eventually getting up to study them further. Slowly she walked all the way around the room until the low groan of the awakening prisoner caught her attention. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she could see more than a vague figure, her breath caught when something about him seemed familiar. With a sickening feeling in her stomach she walked slowly towards him, gasping sharply when she knew for sure it was him; beaten, abused, and barely alive. Leaning in close, gently cradling his head in her hands, she whispered his name softly, gently lifting his head. He tried to open his eyes but one had swollen closed completely, and she felt burning anger rise: she would kill Defour for this.

Quickly she returned to the table and brought him a drink of water, and urged him to take a sip. " _Athos, please_ ," she begged, "Hang on. _I can't get you out, not on my own, but I'll get help, I'll tell the others, d'Artagnon and..."_

" _No_ " for all that his voice was hoarse and raw, the determination was strong.

" _Athos..."_ she began

" _No_ " he repeated gasping, through the pain. " _Free…now… all…for nothing. Defour will know…onto… Duke's plan._

" _Athos, you can't stay here, you_..."

" _No… few days."_

" _You may not make a few more days!"_ she told him, silently wondering if he would even make it through the night.

" _Please"_ he said as unconsciousness took him once more _._

Closing her eyes for a moment, trying to regain her composure, she released his head as tenderly as she could and returned to her chair to wait for Defour.


	2. Chapter 2

She took her time getting there, doubling back across her route; she knew it was unlikely she'd be followed but still, best to be cautious especially with a man like Dufour. However once there, she stormed up the steps of the Musketeers Garrison, and charged uninvited into Treville's office.

" _How could you let him do this? How could you let this happen? Are you trying to get him killed?"_ Her voice rising as she let go of her anger.

" _Welcome, Milady, always a pleasure", Treville told her with a voice dripping in sarcasm, "Please, take a seat"._

" _You think this is a joke? Athos is dying: do you hear me?"_ She asked angrily as she stepped forward and banged her hands down hard on the desk in front of him. She turned as she heard the door behind her open and three figures shuffled into the room. _"And you! You are supposed to be his friends!" She stepped towards the three men menacingly with her hands on her hips. "Yet you stand around and do nothing while he's out there dying."_

" _What do you know? Where is he_?" d'Artagnon asked, trying to resist the instinct to step back in retreat from the angry woman before him.

" _He's trussed up, halfway to the next life in Dufour's cellar, convinced France requires his sacrifice. So what exactly do you intend to do about it?_ " her eyes narrowed in challenge.

Treville stared at his men for a moment. " _How bad_?"

With a final threatening stare at the musketeers she turned back to Treville. "B _ad. If you got him out now, it may still be too late, he's lost a lot of blood and_ …" She paused to take a deep breath, when her voice had started to waiver " _Dufour is trying something new. A new technique and I don't know what, but I know Dufour. He's the best at what he does, no one can withstand his work forever, not even Athos_."

Treville nodded decisively and with a glance at the others he said: " _Tell us everything you can about Dufour and where he's being held._ "


	3. Chapter 3

The plan wasn't perfect and they knew it. Milady didn't know if Dufour knew about her connection to Athos, but she knew he would be suspicious of her returning only a few hours later, especially if she had an unexpected companion. She also knew there was no guarantee he would see her, let alone let her into the cellar again – unless it was as a subject rather than a customer; but she also knew she had to take that chance.

She told Dufour she'd had a last minute business 'opportunity' and needed a few specialist items, items she knew he would need time to prepare. If he or his assistant were surprised or dubious they gave nothing away. Echoing her actions from the day before she sat on the offered chair and, trying to not hold her breath, waited quietly for the signal trying not to think about Athos hanging limp and lifeless beside her.

Waiting was never her strong point, and she found herself feeling caged as she fought the impulse to pace. She knew when the signal came Dufour would have to pass them to get to the source of the commotion; so she forced herself to stay where she was, but her eyes stayed with him, desperately looking for movement and hoping that his stillness was from exhausted unconsciousness…

When the signal finally did come, a small explosion at the front of the premises, Dufour came charging through from the back room. " _Stay here_ " he told her, ignoring her feigned question about what was happening. She counted to ten then rushed to Athos's side.

He still had a faint pulse, but clearly the torture had taken its toll, and although she couldn't to rouse him, she found herself desperately needing to reassure the comatose Athos with words of reassurance. Biting her lip in worry, she removed the lock picks hidden in her hair and started to work on the first manacle, ignoring the sounds of fighting from outside. Working as quickly as she could, she swore slightly as her nervous figures made hard work of the simple lock. She softly called his name, trying to get him to wake but instinctively knowing he was too far gone, instead she tried to balance him against her body as one arm dropped from the shackle above his head.

Adjusting her position, trying to keep Athos's weight off the one still bound wrist, she began work on the second lock, hoping that it would not be Dufour first through the door. When she finally released his other arm, unable bear his weight, she lowered him to the ground as gently as she could, then sat cradling his head on her knees, stroking his hair, speaking softly, telling him it would be okay, that they would save him; that help was on its way.

After several further minutes had passed, Milady started to consider everything that could have gone wrong with the plan. As the fighting got closer she knew she had two options: but deep down she also knew she had no choice. She should walk away from Athos, go sit on the chair and try and convince whoever came through the door first that she was on their side. She knew if Dufour came through and found her with him, she was dead. No chance to explain, no chance to bargain and no mercy – he would kill her and then Athos in an instant; but somehow she couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, taking off her velvet jacket, she rolled it up and put it on the floor that was still wet with Athos's blood, and placed it under his head, before positioning herself between the prone musketeer and the doorway. Milady pulled her stiletto blade and once again, found herself waiting.

It took a moment for her to realise the rhythmic sound she could hear was from running, and not from her own heartbeat; this was it. Here she would take her stand and defend the man she loved, who maybe loved her, despite… She held her breath and stepped forward to meet the enemy as he came through the door.

He strode in, and in one glance read everything: her fighting stance, the blade in her right hand ready to strike, and her left arm out wide trying to protect the man lying still behind her; the look of determination and focus, and the tenderly placed pillow under the unconscious Athos. Raising an eyebrow Aramis paused in the doorway and asked, "Are we all good here?" She nodded once, but her voice betrayed her relief at their rescue when she explained he would need carrying as she couldn't waken him. Aramis nodded and went to check Athos's injuries, "Don't worry. He'll be okay", but she could hear the uncertainty in his voice…


	4. Chapter 4

They told her all he needed was rest, but she saw the concerned glances and knew better. They were worried and so was she - scared even. For all the years she thought she hated him, there was no denying the truth of it. She would have died to protect him and would give her life now if it would save him; but once again all she could do was wait and hope.

D'Artagnon suggested she went home and rest; that she come back in the morning or in a couple of days, they would let her know how he was. She'd glared at him silently for a few seconds and he had nodded and left the room, only to return a short while later with Porthos, between them dragging a cot bed for her. She spent the first night just watching him sleep, checking he was still breathing. By the third night his wounds had become infected and so she sat there with a cool flannel, willing for him to live. By the fifth night his fever made him cry out and scream, so she prayed. She thought her faith had left her long ago, but now she knew better. Instead she wondered how a sinner like her could ask for anything. Yet she pleaded with God to save him, something she had never, would never do for herself. On the seventh day his fever finally broke. He was weak: barely able to eat and still mostly sleeping, but he would survive.

Early the next morning she knew it was time to go, but instead found herself kneeling beside Athos's cot for the last time. She couldn't resist the urge to push a lock of stray hair from his face, or trace the curve of his lips with her finger. She leant forward briefly to kiss his forehead, when a knock at the door announced the arrival of Aramis, who would check his wounds, apply ointment and redress them every day. She stood quickly and started packing the few belongings she had with her into a bag.

"Right then" she began, taking deep breath and heading towards the door, "it has been fun and everything, but I have other places to be."

Aramis watched her silently for a moment, but when she got to the door, he called out "I'll tell him. What you did. How you helped. How you saved him. I will tell him."

She turned to look at him, but instead her eyes wandered back to Athos. "It would be kinder if you didn't."

Aramis frowned, "What do you mean?"

"We are…too damaged to be together. We are drawn to each other, but are constantly pushing ourselves apart at the same time. It would be a kindness if you didn't tell him. At least if he hates me, maybe he can break free and build a life for himself."

As she started to close the door, Aramis spoke up. "You're wrong." He glanced up at her, and gently shook his head, "If you think he hates you…you are wrong." She smiled sadly at him for a moment before closing the door.

…..

Two weeks later she heard he had returned to light duties. She was relieved although annoyed, knowing he would have returned earlier than he should. She couldn't help but wonder if Aramis had told him of her role, secretly hoping Athos knew she had helped him, despite herself asking for it to be kept from him. Instead she put him out of her mind as best she could, and got on with her life…


	5. Chapter 5

He stood in the shadows of the entryway between two buildings, his cloak pulled up around his neck and his wide brimmed hat down low to conceal his face. He watched the boy place the basket on the doorstep. He knocked briefly and without waiting, as instructed he returned to the stranger. Athos nodded at him once, before tossing the promised coin his way. The boy grabbed it mid-air and was off like a hare chased by a fox. Athos smiled and made himself comfortable as he watched the doorstep.

A few moments later her front door opened, and she glanced around before looking down. With a frown she picked up the basket and drew back the cover. Her mouth opened and he could almost hear her exclamation of surprise, one hand going to her heart, as she realised what it contained. She closed her eyes, and breathed in the aroma of the sweet pastries it contained. Slowly opening her eyes, she smiled, then stepped forward to look around the crowded streets for her unexpected benefactor. She lingered, trying to spot him, somehow knowing he was there. Eventually she turned, cradling the basket with one last glance around she went back inside. He couldn't help but notice how much she looked like the woman he had married.

He had not been able to secure the exact pastries he had wanted; his cook's secret recipe now beyond his reach, but these were close enough and more importantly; she had known. He could have sent flowers or a note, jewellery or even visited to say thank you, but he didn't trust himself. So instead he sent delicate reminders of the happier times they had shared instead. Aramis had told him everything: of her fierceness and readiness to fight the musketeers when she believed they were at fault; of her standing, knife in hand, ready to protect him against Dufour in the basement, and of the nights she had sat with him, holding his hand and reading to him throughout his fever.

He did not see how they had a future together; but he also did not see how they could have a future apart. Their lives seemed as bound together as their hearts and nothing they tried seemed to break that bond.

He hated himself for his behaviour all those years ago, his jealousy and anger taking him beyond all sense of reason. With the benefit of hindsight, he knew, had it not been his wife and brother he would have handled things very differently. However, what was past could not be changed, no matter what he might wish. Was a future possible? He didn't know; but for now it was enough that she knew, that he knew…


End file.
